


One Big Happy Family

by RobberBaroness



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No two vampires take to their curse in the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Big Happy Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aaronlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/gifts).



**Sam**

Sam’s last thought as a flesh and blood mortal was, _“If only I hadn’t lost that comic book.”_  There had been a phone number written on it, a wild chance but a chance nevertheless.  Within a few minutes of the infection, the comic book had been long forgotten.

**Michael**

A new father was the last thing Michael wanted, but what he wanted didn’t particularly matter.  There would be no college, no years of freedom, no decisions to make about his future at all.  Certainly there would be no choice when it came to killing, for the thrill of the hunt and the taste of fresh blood allowed no ambiguities.

Some distant, far-off part of Michael was able to recognize all this as a tragedy; a young man’s death, and his transformation into something at once greater and less than he had been.

But choice could be a burden, and at times Michael was glad to have it taken from him.  Once he made his first kill, he never had to wrestle with another moral quandary.  He never had to question his loyalty to his family, for now it was in his very veins.  And when it came to love, he no longer had to choose between a golden-haired monster and a soft-spoken nymph.  Michael and David and Star were inextricably tangled together now, and only true death could part them.

It was not the sort of love he had wished for, but he could make do.

 

**Lucy**

Lucy had a life.  She had children and a father and debts to pay off and a passion for music and a future ahead of her, even if it was not the future her young self might have imagined.  It is no easy task to take someone with those things and mold them into someone else entirely, but it can be done.

Lucy would be proof of that.

It was all for her children, she kept reminding herself.  For Michael and Sam, so they would not have to go into that dark place alone.  Mothers were expected to sacrifice everything for their children, perhaps even their humanity.  When she became Max’s bride, all aspects of her old self were sacrificed, bit by bit.  She never saw her father again.  Everything she owned or owed slipped away.  The protective instincts she had once had towards lost children became predatory, and rumors grew of a mysterious lady in white who haunted the boardwalk and would feast upon any child foolish enough to take a walk with her.

Only one part of the old Lucy remained.  One thought, one feeling, one phrase echoed in her mind.

_He will pay for what he did to my boys._

Planning was hard, and no longer came naturally to her.  Her being after death seemed devoted to wanting, desiring, sensations in the present tense, not grand schemes of revenge.  Still, she considered ways to stay awake once the sun had come up and her lord and husband was asleep.  She bought, handled and hid away a silver knife while wearing thick leather gloves.  It would not save her, and it would not save her sons, for the curse had long since consumed them.

Still, the thought remained: _he will pay for what he did to my boys._

**Star**

She had tried.  She had made many attempts to escape on her own, and they had always tracked her down.  She had stood over David’s sleeping body with a stake held high, knowing that his dying screams would awaken his brothers and that she would be torn limb from limb, until the visceral horror of such a death became too much and her courage failed her.  She had been like a mother to Laddie, devoting herself to his protection, swearing that she would maintain her humanity if only for his sake.  She had sought an outside protector, a hero uninfected by David, to carry her away from the land of the dead and keep her in sunlight forever.

When her outside protector fell to the same tricks she had, Star gave up trying.  When Michael returned from his first hunt, dragging the wounded but still living body of a teenage punk, she sobbed until her eyes were sore, then sank her growing fangs into his victim’s wrist and gorged herself.

She couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to give in.  Captivity had meant loneliness, but now she was never alone.  With David or Michael, in the arms of one or another or simply lying beside them contented as they amused each other, she was always among loved ones.  And all she had to give up was her soul.

 

**Laddie**

It was easiest for him, in the short term.

In the long term, incalculable damage was done to a small child when he was forbidden from growing, from learning about passion or responsibility or anything else adults kept to themselves.  He would never mature, or be a full partner in any of the hunts.  He would never have another child as his friend, ever again.

But in the short term, a child who knew little of humanity had the easiest time losing it.

**David**

Once there was a boy of ambition and bravery who knew more about the world than anyone suspected.  He knew about the man who wandered in and out of town, always looking for strong young workers at a time when work was hard to come by.  He knew that the youths who went with the strange man vanished, but they were poor boys, drifters and delinquents, and he alone had the will to save them.

He found the coffins, and he found the man who had put the bodies in them.  He pulled out his stolen gun and fired six times into the monster’s chest.

Many years later, when it was too late, the boy- for he was still a boy- would watch monster movies and read Ray Bradbury books and understand his mistake, that monsters who ensnare the youth require more than bullets to be laid to rest.  At that point, of course, it no longer mattered.


End file.
